


Thank You

by angelofgrief



Category: Almost Human
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofgrief/pseuds/angelofgrief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John really wanted noodles. Dorian treats him to say thank you. Accidental date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the events of the season finale, episode 13. John really loves noodles and Asian food apparently.

If he hadn't responded to the robbery in progress, he would've been able to finish his noodles in peace and maybe order some to-go eggrolls. But no. Police duties and alike— sometimes he hates being a damn detective.

The robbery was just a high, junkie kid stealing a red Mustang from one of the dealers off of Jazz Street. He sped down the freeway until the cop cars cornered him and the MXs surrounded the car afterward. The kid came out (he looked no younger than 25 years old) and, before they even got to handcuff him, he threw up on the asphalt. Apparently he was high and drunk. Wonderful.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and eluded his way past doing the Miranda rights to the kid (and kindly giving that honor to Paul) and quickly sped past the circle of ambulances, cop cars and unnecessary flashing lights. It was still pretty early (about 8ish, nearing 9) and he was half-tempted to go back to noodle shop if he could make it.

“Right. Want me to drop you off to Rudy's?”

“Actually, I want to hang out with you, John.”

He neared a red light and pressed the brake.

“Oh god, why?” He risked a glance at Dorian and only saw his smile.

“I want to give my thanks you to,”

“I don't need your thanks., okay,”

“I insist, John. It's because of you that I'm still on the force. Green light.”

“Yeah, I can see that! Listen, you don't have to insist on anything okay. I'm just gonna go back to the noodle shop and eat my wasted noodles,”

“I can watch you eat. In fact, I can even treat you to some if you'd like,”

John sighed exasperatedly (and dramatically). He felt the sudden urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. Or better yet: Dorian's head. But he didn't do any of those things. In fact, he just continued driving, well past the right turn that would've led to Rudy's building. The car ride was silent but comfortable— in fact, he could almost _feel_ Dorian's radiant being and _see_ the smile that reached his blue eyes.

Sometimes, he'll forget that he's actually a synthetic made to feel. But, in all honesty, John likes when he forgets he's a robot But, it's more for Dorian's sake than his because he can see _it_ whenever and wherever they are. He can see how hard Dorian tries to be human around other people and they either stiff him or it feels relatively forced and the conversation is always limited to essentials only. He doesn't know if Dorian knows of what he does but if he does, he doesn't mention it.

There was traffic on the way to the noodle shop and by the time they arrive, it's starting to pack up shop. He sighs and hits his fist against the steering wheel.

“Damn. I really wanted those noodles,” he whispers.

They were really good noodles too. He looks up to see Dorian's disco face popped into overdrive. He raises his eyebrows and before he even attempts to ask Dorian what he's doing, he's already talking.

“There's a noodleshop just a couple of streets from here that's open until 10.”

“...And you're still coming with me?”

Dorian nods enthusiastically. John shakes his head and starts the car up again, only sighing halfheartedly.

“Then let's go. You're treating me. And make sure you treat yourself to some bowl of screws and bolts,”

John doesn't need to see him to see the little smirk he has at the corner of his lips. Ever since the first take-out, barely a day since Dorian's been recommissioned, the little tick in his smile has always been on the left side of his face. He slips up a smile on his face because even he can't fake the stoic, standoffish front he puts on and drives down a couple of blocks.

They enter the noodle joint and he immediately notices that, while it's not an out-in-the-open place, it's a fairly decent size place. There's still a generous amoutn of people eating in their booths and tables and the low levels of chatter is equivalent to the noise he hears when he sits out front, maybe just a bit quieter. Dorian orders them a booth near the two-inch thick windows closer towards the back and follows him and the waitress to it.

The waitress hands out the menu but Dorian shakes his head politely and gestures her to take it back. She nods a bit puzzlingly but accepts it nonetheless. John looks through the menu before he notices Dorian's disco face popping up again.

“You should order the Shrimp Boat Special. It has some pretty good reviews here,”

“Alright, then can I get that and 10 eggrolls for to-go? And just water would be fine,”

“Okay!”

The young waitress writes down his order and practically bounces away. He turns away and looks at Dorian, still smiling and still looking at him. He leans back against the booth and snaps his finger, looking at Dorian with fake disappointment, eyeing him carefully.

“We forgot to order your bowl, too,”

Dorian shakes his head, his smile never faltering and he laughs a bit as well. John shakes his head again, the smile threatening to take over his face and for a while, the atmosphere around them is likeable and relaxing. The waitress comes back and brings him his water while asking Dorian if he needed anything else. John uses this opportunity to ask for a small bowl of screws and nuts for Dorian if they had any and, even though it was meant as a joke, the waitress all too eagerly agrees and runs back to the kitchen to fetch him his bowl.

John covers his muffled laughter as Dorian bores right at him with a disappointing and pitiful (for the waitress) look. He looks away and stares at the passing crowds behind the window, coughing to try and hide his laughter.

“Seriously, man? You know that's not funny,”

He doesn't seem genuinely mad and that's a good thing too because the waitress comes back with a small bowl of literally screws, nuts and small washers. They look clean and wet, steaming slightly from the hot water. She gives Dorian the bowl and she smiles happily. Dorian looks up and gives her a forced smile and when both of them realized that she wasn't going to leave before he ate something, Dorian grimaced.

“Well? She's waiting, Dorian”

John leans back and feels the bubble of laughter about to burst as Dorian picks up a bolt (with chopsticks!) and quickly shoves it in his mouth. John covers his mouth as their waitress asks Dorian if it was good and he nods his head in response. John's almost starting to feel bad for him.

“Free— on the house, chef say!”

“Oh-ha ha okay, thank you,” John replies and watches her bounce away.

He looks back Dorian and he sees eyes of animosity directed at him. It only makes him laugh harder.

“You're gonna do this even though I'm treating you—“

“Hey, you insisted and how can I refuse the offer?”

“You already did—“

“Then I take it back. Now go eat your screws, Dorian, they're getting cold,”

He already sees the little smirk (on the left side of his face— _always_ ) forming as Dorian goes to eat his bowl in peace. The waitress comes back with John's _Shrimp Boat_ special and tells him that the eggrolls will take a while. He nods regardless and the first bite of the Special is awe inspiring.

“Holy shit. This is amazing!”

“Haha, I told you,”

John continues to eat his Special, making small mewls and noises of contentment after a couple bites or so. He doesn't notice the fact that Dorian's finished his or that he's staring at him. As he continues to devour his noodles, he can't help but feel like this whole... situation was starting to have a date-like ambiance to it. He chokes an a sliver a noodle that goes down his throat without his foresay and coughs through it.

“John? Are you okay?”

“Hmmph _-ine_ ”

“Maybe you should slow down, John,”

The thing is he can't.

The idea that it might be a date makes his stomach go queasy and it isn't the hangover queasy, it's the butterfly queasy and he doesn't understand why it's doing that. He lifts the bowl up to cover his face, partially to finish the remainder of the soup and the other part to hide his blush (that's growing a bit deeper by the second).

And the thing is... _it doesn't sound so bad_ : a date with Dorian. He flinches before putting the bowl down and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He reaches for his glass of water and takes two huge gulps and sets it down a bit harshly. A date with Dorian is bad because of two reasons: 1) he's technically city property and he'd be breaking probably loads of rules just by thinking of that idea and 2) he doesn't even know if Dorian likes him _likes him_ like that.

“John.”

He takes a second to look up and when he does, he almost instantly regrets it. There's something about seeing Dorian looking at him with concern that makes him feel like he's the world to him. He shakes his head and looks towards the doors that lead to the kitchen.

“Where are my damn eggrolls?”

He notices a look of despondency but doesn't make a comment on it— for fear of him just imagining it. The air is tense and when he looks back at Dorian, he's staring outside the window with a blank expression. John squeezes his hands a bit and desperately wants this day to end so they could go back to their normal setup.

“I really mean it, John.”

“...What?”

“Thank you... _my friend_ ,”

John nods stiffly. There were a couple of reasons why he liked when Dorian said that and why he didn't.

“Yeah, it's uh... no problem, really,”

His heart is racing and he hopes, he swears to everything that is holy and just and to every single god and/or goddess out there, that Dorian isn't scanning his heart rate right now. There's no disco face that accompanies the bright grin he sports on. John sighs and smiles back a bit and the waitress comes in with his take out of eggrolls and the receipt. Dorian pays like he says he will and they make their way out of the shop and to the car.

“Can I ask you a question, John?”

They get into the car and John fishes out the keys from his jacket pockets.

“Depends on what it is,”

“Why... am I the reason you stayed on the force?”

John almost slammed his foot against the break as they neared another red light. He's starting to think that red lights were put there to jump start conversations that he really doesn't need to be brought up. His hand tighten around the wheel and he has the urge to lie to Dorian, regardless if he can tell the difference or not. He looks up and sees the leg in the rear view mirror and thinks if the lie is worth it. He turns to face him and suddenly, that urge dies as he sees Dorian's face.

“Dorian, I...”

The car behind them honks at them and John jolts in his seat. He looks up and sees the green light and presses a little too hard on the gas pedal. He looks in his side mirrors and sees the car turning right, ignoring the fact that he just honked a cop car (he never liked being honked at unless he did the honking). He sees an empty lot on his right and signals to turn into it. The lot belongs to a park and he's glad that there isn't anyone around. He puts the car into park and turns off the engine and sits there in silence.

He turns to look at Dorian and he still has the same look on his face. If he could put a finger on it, he'd name it **hope**. John sighs deeply, scratching his head furiously and stares straight at the dashboard. He could just tell him— make it quick and simple: that he really liked him and actually enjoyed his company. But it also scares him because he has no idea what's gonna happen afterward.

“I-I... I don't know... I can't...”

He has the sudden urge to pull out the steering wheel and rip the doors of their hinges. Because right now, John Kennex is scared. He's scared and confused and anxious and he has no idea what's right or wrong anymore. Then there's someone holding his hand. John looks down and it takes a minute for his to realize it's Dorian.

“I'm sorry, man. I shouldn’t have forced you like that. But... I know. I know, John,”

He looks up and is met up with reassuring blue eyes, absently stroking the underside of Dorian's palm. He shakes his head.

“No... you don't know,”

He pries his hand away from Dorian's, grabs the back of his neck and slams their lips together. The kiss isn't passionate despite it being forceful. He feels like he's on fire and against Dorian's cool lips, it's driving him insane. He feels him opening his mouth and he does the same thing. Dorian doesn't taste like anything. But if John had to put a taste to it, he'd say it was like kissing water. Cool, smooth, and virtually tasteless. He wonders what Dorian is thinking he tastes like.

Dorian is the first to pull away and it makes John think that he's made a huge mistake. But then he sees him chuckling and his hand (the one that held his) is tracing his jawline and maybe he didn't make a mistake.

“Thank you, John,”

“Ha what? For the kiss?”

“Not only that but... for _everything_. Thank you, really,”

John doesn't realize that he still has a grip on his neck but doesn't move to let go. He grins a bit and absently nods. He wonders if Dorian knows how much he saved him since he was recommissioned but knows that's another topic for another day. He leans forward again and kisses him again, deciding that it's his turn to say thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking of writing a cuter version of this with Dorian hugging the shit out of John but oh well~


End file.
